I can't wait for tomorrow, I think, as I throw myself down on my bed, bag and all. I haven't even bothered to remove my blazer first, an act I'm sure to regret because it is prone to wrinkling. Oh well, I have a spare and I can take the time to iron it out when I'm home. Home. I draw out the word in my mind, relishing it as I twist enough to unceremoniously push my bag off the bed. All the space is mine, I think with childish glee as I curl further into a ball.
Classes have only let out a few minutes now, and while I should have been on my way to the library to tackle the ever constant pile of work I still have left to do to reach the same level as my classmates before finals, I had given in to the ever growing exhaustion I have been feeling. Maybe I shouldn't have started setting a 3am wake up call for myself… But it would be worth it, I reassure myself. I'm nearly done…just a few more days and I'll be able to return to a saner schedule.
It's all my dad's fault I decide, as I shift yet again, searching for that one spot of absolute comfort that would allow me to escape reality for two hours. I should have known that he would have sided with Dalton's staff. As I had half expected, a few of my teachers had petitioned for me to be tested out of the sophomore level classes (I was secretly glad that the opposite couldn't occur because I think my Physics teacher would have been the first to kick me back down to the freshman class…and only because middle school would not have been an option). So now, I was one of a handful of 'elite' students enjoying the torment of a mixed schedule.
Oh, don't get me wrong. It's not like I'm having trouble understanding Junior English and Literature and senior French (as it turns out my reading skills can use a bit of work). It's just that the course load is a lot more, and the sophomore assignments I had been given initially had had to be substituted with the Junior and Senior equivalent and while the teachers had been kind enough to give me a rather lengthy submission time frame to work with, it didn't exempt me from the homework they were still assigning.
Also there was the fact that my movement into higher level classes had put me on the students' radar in a way I had not anticipated happening until I joined the Warblers (which at this point won't be happening until next term, if then). It wasn't all bad – while I didn't have a class with Blaine, Nick was in English Lit and Trent had English in the same time block, so I was not entirely alone. But French? I was entirely abandoned in a classroom full of students who seemed determined to prove (in gentlemanly ways of course) that I had no right to be in their classroom. A sly comment from one of them in my very first class was the main reason why I was determined to top the class in every upcoming exam. They'd all see that I'm more than a cherub-faced kid (dang it Mercedes, why do I always find myself describing myself using your words?!).
I mean, they're not all bad. There's one guy in particular – Derrick – who's been pretty nice to me from the start. Indeed, he offered to become my study partner, something that I accepted after the second class. It is a mutually beneficially act; he needs help achieving full fluency, especially since he hopes to be accepted into a French University, and I need someone to push me into focusing on the written word. He was very useful in that way, and now, a little over two weeks since I had switched to my new classes, I consider him to be my very first, non-Warbler friend. He actually invited me to go out with him tomorrow, but I'd turned him down with some regret. Dalton only allows students to go home every other weekend and there was no way I was giving up the chance to head to Lima and my family and friends. He understood though, so we're heading out to the movies and probably dinner next week instead.
As I finally find that one spot that I had been looking for, I remind myself to mention it to Blaine sometime. He'd be so proud of me.
oOoOo
Without opening my eyes, I know that it's Blaine's hand rubbing circles on my back, gently coaxing me back to reality. I've grown accustomed to his touch by now – it's now routine for him to stay with me until I'm at least in bed (more often than not, I drift off to his hand in my hair). I contemplate batting at his hand because I still feel so tired, but there's also the scent of food, and my stomach loudly informs me that that chicken burrito from lunch is no longer enough. Reluctantly, I shift, sighing as I peel my eyes open to stare at his pants leg.
I don't really realise when I wiggle my way until my head is on said leg, my eyes drifting close again.
Blaine is so comfortable.
"Oh no you don't," Blaine says with a bit of a laugh, jostling his leg in spite of my protesting mewls. "Come on sweetheart, wake up."
"What time is it?" I slur, stubbornly trying to resist his effort to dislodge me. My leg, I think wrapping my fingers possessively in a bit of material.
"A little after eight," he tells me, and now his fingers go from soothing to ticklish as he bends awkwardly to dig them into my sides. I shriek with laughter, sleep forgotten as I twist and turn trying to escape the dance of his fingers until, breathlessly, I declare that I am indeed awake and done sleeping.
His eyes sparkle as he backs away, holding his hands up to show that he has indeed relented. I raise my arms in a stretch, only belatedly realising what he had said.
"Eight o clock!" I yelp, panicking. That was three hours past schedule.
"Relax, I brought you up a plate," Blaine says, waving a hand to my desk. "You hadn't even bothered to close your dorm door earlier. Jeff told me that you looked exhausted so I decided that you could sleep in."
In his words I hear a hint of reproach, and I brace myself for the scolding I knew would be imminent.
"What I don't understand though Kurt, is how you seem so tired in the first place. I've been seeing you off to bed by latest ten every night this week. Have you been taking your vitamins?"
I've learnt my lesson; I don't even think to lie.
"I've been waking up at three to keep working," I tell him, nipping my lip when his eyes narrow slightly.
"Every night?"
"Yes."
I am not disappointed. His words are a gentle rebuke as he scolds me for neglecting my health.
"How have you been hiding it though?" he asks eventually. "I'd think you'd have bags by now."
"With the regimen I do?" I ask incredulously, and Blaine at least looks chagrined. "I've been using concealer," I admit though reaching up to thumb at the skin beneath my eyes. I feel grateful that this is all I have to use it for now – the last of my bruises have finally disappeared and I can actually rotate my body now without any residual aches.
Of course Blaine would have a handkerchief, I think as he takes one out of his pocket and, moving my thumb, gently scrubs at the delicate skin until indeed, he could stare at the rather impressive panda eyes I have been working on. "Kurt," he sighs, that single word laden with meaning.
I briefly wonder at how one little action like that could have me barely resisting the urge to squirm, but, once again, I realise that Stern Blaine tends to bring out this effect in me, and I've yet to fully decide if I like it. It never though, leaves me feeling anything beyond cared for, so I suppose it's not really a bad thing.
He doesn't speak beyond that for a few minutes, directing me to eat. I smile despite myself when I see a generous helping of corn on my plate – he remembered that it's my favourite thing to eat.
"You don't have any class until third period tomorrow right?" Blaine asks eventually, while I sip at my orange juice. I nod, wondering at the question.
My stomach is now content, but, its fullness is slowly causing the desire to sleep to rear its beautiful yet distracting head.
"Can you manage to complete all the homework that's due in the morning?"
I can, I inform him after considering it. I can easily finish the essay for Art in that time span. It was half done anyway. "But why?" I inquire, slightly regretful to have already reached the bottom of my glass – that juice was quite refreshing.
"I want you to have an early night," Blaine says in a tone that warns me against arguing.
"An earlier night, you mean," I can't help but retort, although it's very well only for the sake of arguing. My body is already cheering at the promise of more sleep, and I'm quite certain that if he had not been concerned about me missing a meal, Blaine would have left me to sleep uninterrupted. "I'm already among the first people to turn in every night."
"You need your rest," Blaine replies simply, not rising to the bait. "I'll drop these dishes off in the kitchen. Get ready for me, okay?"
"Fine," I tell him, affecting a put out tone.
I'm not too surprised when, about half an hour later, he pockets my phone. It's the only alarm I have so in that one move, he's effectively stopped any attempt at early-morning studying; there is no way that I could wake up at that hour on my own.
"I'll wake you in the morning," he reassures me.
I still find our position a bit intimidating. Scrubbed clean and pyjama clad, I must seem so much younger and immature to him as he stands, looking down at me. I can't help but relax though when he cups my cheek, rubbing his thumb across my smooth skin. Why I look forward to this I don't know. I'm sixteen after all, and quite capable of putting myself to bed thank you very much. But when Blaine looks at me so tenderly…it's nice, and I find myself leaning a bit further into him, smiling softly when he allows it, joining me on the bed so that I could lay my head on his shoulder with a contented smile.
"I'm trusting you to stay in bed Kurt," he says after a minute.
"I will," I murmur. "I'm tired."
"You're pushing yourself too hard," he continues, rubbing my back again. "I know it's still a bit overwhelming for you, but pace yourself okay? This isn't a race that you need to win."
I disagree, especially when an image of the French class flashes behind my slowly drooping eyelids, but I don't tell him about that, about needing to prove myself. Derrick though – that's a safe topic.
"I made a friend," I tell him sleepily, "in Senior French."
"Oh?" he answers, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "Do I know this new senior French friend?"
The teasing in his voice is understandable, I suppose. So far it's been with barely repressed amusement that he watches me anytime I declare a new friendship, only to belatedly realise that it's a Warbler gradually bringing me into the fold. But, nope, I am proud to say that this time, I've done the work all on my own.
"His name's Derrick…Derrick Hendrickson. He's nice to me." I yawn, feeling Blaine's arms tighten minutely around me.
"Tall and blonde?"
"Mmmhmm," I agree, even as I burrow further into his arms, smiling slightly when his arms tense again. This sturdy hug is quickly pulling me under. "I'm going out with him next Friday," I add.
Blaine doesn't answer, and I'm too far gone to realise far less question it. I grumble something that's vaguely a protest when his arms tighten almost to the point of discomfort, but he immediately eases his grip, his apology a softly hummed tune I can't quite place. I'm asleep within minutes, but it's almost fifteen more minutes before Blaine carefully displaces and covers me with my blankets. I suppose if I was awake I would have questioned the frown on his face.
oOoOoOo
"Kurt's cheating on me," I declare blandly, closing my dorm door.
David doesn't even glance up from his textbook, but Wes turns from his spot at my desk, eyebrows arched.
"Didn't we talk about this?" he asks, and I can hear the exasperation in his tone. "It's not cheating if he doesn't know he's in a relationship in the first place."
"This is not going to be Gap Attack 2.0 Blaine," David adds, calmly flipping a page. "We barely escaped censure from administration."
"Guys," I huff, perhaps with the tiniest hint of a whine in my tone, "I'm being serious here."
"Sure you are. When's your anniversary date with our future Warbler?"
"…"
"Thought so," David declares triumphantly, before unwinding and inserting a pair of noise-cancelling ear-buds. "Deal with this Wes," he orders, "I've got to finish studying for Mr. Thomas' exam."
I make a note to myself to paint the most inappropriate of doodles on his face when he goes to sleep tonight.
"Come here Blaine," Wes compels me with the smallest trace of humour in his voice. I listen, but only because I know that Wes would take my concerns seriously. "Now tell me, what's wrong?"
"Kurt has a date next Friday," I tell him sadly, crossing my legs yoga-style. "He's going out with Derrick Hendrickson of all people."
Wes frowns for a moment, searching for a face to match the name. "Oh, him," he says eventually. "Do we not like Derrick?" he adds with honest curiosity.
And that right there is why I prefer Wes to David, I decide in that moment. Wes is instantly prepared to dislike him with as much fervour as me.
"Don't humour him Wes," David says suddenly, looking at us on my bed. "Blaine's just afraid that Derrick will snatch little Hummel up before he's worked up the courage to ask him to be his boyfriend."
"He is my boyfriend!" I protest, glaring at him.
David snorts, and I barely resist the urge to toss a pillow at his head as he turns back to his work, re-securing the headphones.
"Blaine," Wes asks me carefully, "Did you…have you actually asked Kurt out?"
"I didn't think that I had to!" I declare. "I spend nearly all my free time with him. I ensure that he eats enough, I put him to bed –"
"Which isn't at all weird…"
"Shut up David," both Wes and I say simultaneously.
David snorts again, muttering something we can't really hear. I don't know why he's pretending to be listening to music; it's obvious that his full attention is on us.
"Blaine," Wes says after a moment, "to be fair, Kurt's not actually cheating on you. There isn't a malicious bone in that kid's body. Maybe he doesn't even realise that he's been asked out."
"How could he not? He's going out with him, on a Friday. That's date night!"
"Is Derrick even gay?"
"Um well… that I don't actually know," I admit. "But the evidence is against him, isn't it? He's asked Kurt out."
"For all we know it's for the latest horror film with some nachos afterwards."
"I don't like him," I reiterate, not at all caring that I'm probably being more than a bit childish at the moment.
"I ought to be taping this," David says, more to himself than anything else, "and show Kurt the non-Mr. Dapper Pants version of you."
"Wes, I will throttle him," I warn, glaring darkly at him.
"At this point I may help you."
oOoOoOo
My dark mood remains the following day, and I really am not sure how I make it through all my classes without earning myself a detention. I really should consider acting as a career, I decide idly, if I had managed to deceive all my teachers into thinking I was paying attention. It wasn't as if my morning hadn't been good. I had had to drag Kurt out of his bed and down to breakfast. He had been so groggy - the result of his body resisting waking up now that it had finally gotten the opportunity for rest and rejuvenation. I must admit it was rather impressive watching him down not one but three cups of coffee, something which finally made him more awake but would cause one hell of a crash later on.
Neither of us brought up his upcoming date afterwards as he walked me to my first period World History class, but I knew that I was a tad quieter than usual. If he noticed, he didn't say, and I must admit, the impulsive hug and smile he had given me before scurrying off to the library warmed my heart just the slightest. I would have retained that feeling if it wasn't for the fact that the object of my ire passed down the hall moments later on his way to his own class, a decidedly too smug expression on his face. He was taunting me – I just knew it.
In between pretending to be attentive, I think of a plan of attack. Even now I have not worked it out entirely. It's not like if I want to rush Kurt – it's the main reason I've been deliberately moving so slow when it came to the two of us. Kurt was still recovering from the trauma of his last school, and I really do not want to overwhelm him by adding romance to the equation despite knowing within minutes of us meeting each other that I wanted this fair-skinned beauty to be in my life for the rest of it and beyond. And if, like David had hinted, it makes me seem just the slightest bit stalker-like, then so be it. I like Kurt, and I can see myself eventually loving him, and, although it may be stupidity on my part, I believe that he likes me as well. He wouldn't look at me with that amount of tenderness if there wasn't at least a small part of him that knew it.
Without me really realising it, I find myself automatically walking to Kurt's dorm once classes let out. There weren't any club activities on Friday afternoons, and I was fairly certain that Kurt would forgo the library in favour of heading straight to Lima. I am right, because he's already there when I push open the door with a perfunctory knock, bouncing about happily as he tossed his belongings into a small suitcase.
"Blaine!" he says jovially, giving me a broad grin that further eases the tenseness within me. I smile despite my rather bleak thoughts, reaching out to touch his cheek briefly, enjoying its creamy softness before I drop down on his bed.
"What time is your dad getting here?" I ask him.
"My step-mom's coming instead," he tells me. Carole, I recall, glancing at the family picture he has on his side table. There are three pictures there, one of his new blended family, one from his childhood with his parents, and one of himself with his old glee club. It always worries me a bit when I look at that picture in particular. Kurt's never talked about having friends outside of that glee club, and I know that they've only been in existence for a little over a year now. Was he alone for all the time before that? It would explain a lot, I think.
I draw myself out of my thoughts as I realise that Kurt is still speaking. "She had to work a double shift at the hospital yesterday, so they gave her the day off. We're going to go grocery shopping before we head home…and maybe a stop off at the mall. She needs a new cardigan and I am pretty sure I can talk her into a new pair of heels as well. Who's coming for you?"
"Nathalie," I answer with a shrug. It's her most of the times, and to be fair, I'm not entirely sure that my parents are even in Ohio. It wouldn't matter either way really. "Make sure you pack your Physics notes," I bid, laughing at the groan he makes, even as he gathers them up. "You'll get the hang of it," I add reassuringly.
"You have more faith in me than I do."
"Because I know you're capable."
Kurt's head ducks a bit, and I know him well enough by now to recognise that he's embarrassed. My sweetheart, I think fondly, better now that I have his full attention on me and not Derrick.
A few minutes later I would wonder if the mere thought of the blond menace summoned him when there's a rather sharp rap on the door. Kurt airily calls for whoever is on the other side to enter, although my guard is already up. A little over two years at the school has taught me all of my friends' traits and that knock, firm and a tad bit too loud, definitely does not belong to any of them. I am right; the door opens and Derrick Hendrickson enters.
oOoOoOo
I can't figure out why Blaine's mad at me. It's Saturday night, and I've just returned from dinner at the Lima Bean with my girls. It was a great night, and I really enjoyed getting caught up on all the drama I've missed (and yes, it was a lot). It was pretty funny being an outsider looking in, now that I think about it and I am already looking forward to the next set of drama (because let's face it, drama and the New Directions are synonymous). But now that I'm back, intermittently rolling my eyes at the seventies music Finn is rocking next door (and why is he home anyway?) I remember that Blaine hasn't really been responsive to me. Oh, I know, it could be that he's busy with his own family and friends, but he usually takes the time to respond to my messages, if only to say that he'd give me a more detailed response in a bit, so I'm concerned. There's also the fact that the responses I do occasionally get are pretty brief and just not…Blaine like. Had I done something wrong?
I pull my pillow to me as I dwell upon it. Could it be that he really had not forgiven me for waking up so early the past few nights? It's possible, but I'm not really sure. He was normal with me all of yesterday, even pulling my suitcase for me down to Carole's car. He had been a bit quiet though on the way there, I recall, now realising that I had been the one who'd been chattering all of the way down about deciding on what possible movie I could watch with Derrick, now that he had put the choice into my hands.
I sigh, deciding that there really is not point in me lying here staring at my phone, willing Blaine to call or text. I boot up my laptop because I might as well get some more work done. Of course I immediately forget my original purpose in favour of logging into Facebook, and am immediately bombarded by a combination of messages and posts. None are from Blaine, but I force myself not to dwell on it as I instead explore the Warbler group I've been added to (because apparently my auditioning really is just a formality). There are a few posts from the previous year that grab my attention, something about Gap and a performance for Jeremiah.
A bit of sleuthing on my part tells me that this guy is apparently someone Blaine had liked in the previous year and he'd thought it a brilliant idea to rope the Warblers into performing for him. I laugh when I see a subsequent post stating that it was a complete disaster and that Retailer Jeremiah had not only been fired but also had threatened to take out a restraining order against the Warblers generally, and Blaine more specifically. There was a particularly cryptic comment from David that said that Blaine hadn't even had a proper conversation with the guy. I let out a peal of laughter with that, completely amused. Blaine really must have matured a lot between then and now I think, recalling how much of a mentor he is to me.
That decides it, I think, a burst of determination going through me. I still did not know if he was truly angry at me, but I know that there is one thing I can do that is bound to compensate for it. Grinning, I pull a pad and paper to me and quickly compile a list. It'll mean a busy Sunday afternoon for me, but I know that I'll enjoy it.
oOoOoOo
By the end of Monday, I'm pretty confident that I'm starting to get the hang of this Dalton thing. I actually managed to answer all the questions posed to me correctly today (including Physics) and I was able to one up everyone in French today as being the only one to gain a perfect score in our pop-quiz from last week. It's the first of many victories for me, and I was not at all afraid to shoot my soon to be patented bitch-glare at the ringleader of my naysayers. All in all Kurt Hummel is on the path to Dalton-domination.
It's with an extra spruce to my step that I quickly scramble my books together before heading out of the main school building to the sophomore dorm rooms to get the box I had managed to sneak in this morning. I had had a bit of fear that Blaine would have come to greet me that morning, ruining the surprise, but he himself showed back up to the school only a few minutes before the weekly assembly began. By then I had been already seated with a few other classmates and (a bit surprisingly) Derrick, but I had thrown a small smile at him as he had hurried to a free seat by Trent. I was happy when he returned it, although it faded quickly. This though would fix it.
I may have gone a bit overboard, which is why I had ended up with a boxful of treats, but it was okay. Baking with Carole had been a blast and she had promised to swing by McKinley before her shift to drop off an identical box for the New Directions (neither of us were foolish enough to trust Finn with that task). Now, I had my own special delivery to make.
Grinning broadly I set aside a smaller container before scurrying to the Warbler practice room. I don't want to actually interrupt their practice, although I doubt they'd mind given what I was carrying, but still…
I am fortunate. As I reach the doors I hear chatter and some occasional bursts of singing, but nothing that indicates that it is co-ordinated. Balancing the box in one hand, I knock at the door, feeling a blush start up even before the door opens fully. This is going to be embarrassing, I realise suddenly.
It's one of the senior Warblers who greets me, a redhead named Andrew who gives me a genuine smile.
"Kurt!" he says, surprise lacing his tone. "Decided to join us after all, eh?"
Before I can correct him I find myself dragged into the room. He's taller than me, and considerably broader. There's no way for me to resist being propelled forward in front of him. "Look who's here guys," he announces loudly and that small blush deepens as all eyes turns on me.
There's a chorus of cheers and "Kurt"s before I sense, rather than feel Blaine's eyes on me. A peek upwards shows that he is indeed looking at me curiously.
"What's up Kurt?" David asks, approaching me now. His eyes are kind as he watches me and I offer him a small smile.
"Um," I began, nervous now that all eyes are on me like this. It isn't as if I'm performing after all. But then again, it is David and so, clearing my throat I start again. "I kind of baked…extra cookies yesterday, so I thought you guys would want it? You've been so kind to me, even though I haven't joined yet…I just wanted to say thanks," I finish rather lamely, my voice nearly disappearing by the end.
David spares me by letting out a whoop. "Kurt's brought us snacks guys!" he shouts, which leads to a new chorus of "Kurt"s and "awesome".
I smile at their infectious reaction, offering the box to David even as Andrew hugs me from behind, knocking the breath out of me briefly.
"It's just cookies," I say but the box is already passing around, the guys diving into it head first. I know they're delicious but seeing the looks of delights on their faces makes it all worthwhile. I will definitely be repeating this surprise in the future.
"I didn't know you could bake."
I smile at the soft tone, turning slightly to see my favourite Warbler looking at me, a half eaten cookie in his hand. I reach out and dab at a smudge of chocolate at the corner of his mouth.
"There's a lot of things you don't know about me."
"I look forward to learning all of them," he tells me then, with a look that causes my heart to flutter just the slightest.
"Um, I'm going to head to the library now okay?"
"Sure you don't want to stay?" he asks waving his hand around. "You literally have them eating out of your hand now."
I laugh, even as I shake my head. "Not yet Blaine."
He nods, immediately accepting it. "In your own time sweetheart."
And with that, I know I am forgiven for whatever it was that had made him cross with me in the first place. Happily I reach out and hug him, closing my eyes in pleasure when he returns it, squeezing me tightly. "You'll come by my room tonight?" I ask.
"Don't I always?" he rebuts gently as he pulls back. "Now, off you go before I turn you over to the guys and let them convince you why you should stay and sing."
I chuckle at his ominous tone before, with a general wave at the room, scurry out.
I have another delivery to make.
oOoOoOo
Just as he had told me, I find Derrick seated on the floor in one of the most isolated sections of the library. He is leaning against the wall, an open notebook in his lap while he consults a thick textbook in front of him. I blink as I see a pair of glasses perched on the bridge of his nose…they look rather good on him I acknowledge as I approach.
"Hello," I say, switching to French as per our agreement.
He pats the spot besides him, his left hand still busily scribbling at something. I heed the silent request and take a seat, waiting the two minutes it takes for him to finish what I now see is an admittedly complex-looking Chemistry equation. "Done," he says, lifting his hand off the page with a flourish that causes my lips to quirk. "I did not expect you today."
"I know, but I brought you these," I respond, offering him a small, disposable container. There are five cookies, a brownie and a cupcake in it, something that causes his eyes to widen in both surprise and pleasure.
"You made these?"
"I love baking."
"You are good at it," he compliments me, stealthily taking a bite of the brownie, "have you considered a career in it?"
"I have, alongside fashion and theatre. I have time to decide yet thankfully."
"You are very ambitious, Kurt Hummel."
"I know. What are you going to study?"
"Languages," he responds, eagerness lacing his tone. "I've been accepted for a double major in French and Spanish. I still plan to continue studying German, and my preferred university also allows for study in Italian, Mandarin and Japanese."
"Aiming for polyglot status, huh?"
"Yes," he admits. "I hope to become a translator with the UN."
There's considerable amount of passion and sincerity in his words that impresses me. "You'll go far," I murmur inadvertently.
"I know," he responds, although now there is sadness in his tone. "But it'll be a lonely journey as well."
"What?"
"I'm following in my mama's footsteps," he admits, leaning his head back against the wall and staring upwards at the ceiling. "She too worked with the United Nations. I hardly ever saw her. My papa would not allow her to take me with her, so I grew up, here. I saw her ever so often, three or four times a year, but it was not the same, no? I was about ten when my papa asked for a divorce, and she agreed without any complaint. I think she was relieved really. She let me come to her in the last summer vacation – she was busy but Istanbul was fun. My papa thinks me mad for wanting to join the UN after seeing what it can do, but maybe I can find someone who will travel the world with me. If I can't though, it is fine. I prefer to help others over myself."
Kurt was speechless for long moments, processing the older teen's words. He felt the sting of tears when the reality of it set it. He couldn't believe that this guy was so young and yet fully prepared to give up the one thing Kurt dreamed for himself for the benefit of other people. Kurt felt almost selfish in comparison.
"I – I don't know what to say," I admit, "just…wow."
"Very few know of this."
"I won't tell anyone."
"Thank you."
oOoOoOo
The mood my afternoon with Derrick created stays with me long into the evening. By the time Blaine comes to see me that night, later than usual because of a group project he's just started, I'm feeling decidedly sentimental. I know he is initially concerned – I'm sniffling while flipping through the album I've brought with me – but I reassure him that no, nothing is wrong, I'm fine, before putting aside the album in favour of opening my arms invitingly. I barely resist purring as his warmth surrounds me for long moments, before I remember.
I have one last delivery to make.
I pull back abruptly to fetch a small box I crafted myself. I may have gone a little overboard with my glue gun and glitter, but overall I'm still pleased with the results of what I've done. I offer it up to him, nipping my lip as I step back, gauging his reaction.
"This is for you too," I tell him, as he caresses it gently.
"It's beautiful Kurt."
"Thanks. Um," I say as he opens it, "You love bowties, so your cookies are shaped like them. I didn't know if you liked red velvet cake, but there're two cupcakes there, and well, I doubt you're part of the one percent who hates brownies so…"
"Rambling Kurt," he interrupts with a laugh. "Thanks so much for this, but I got cookies earlier…"
It's as if he's trying to convince himself against diving headfirst into the box.
"You got those because you're a Warbler," I explain jovially. "These are especially for you."
I'm heartened for once to see that it's Blaine who's flustered as he blushes at the words. I lean across and press a gentle kiss to his cheek. "Thank you for everything Blaine," I whisper, sneaking in a second one before I pull back. I grasp his hand and pull him back towards the bed, stealing one of his cookies with a grin.
"Hey," he protests. Rolling my eyes, I feed half of it to him.
"What's this about though?" he asks eventually, after all but the cupcakes have disappeared.
I shrug. "Like I said, I just wanted to thank you."
I look away, an act he doesn't allow for long as his finger worms its way beneath my chin and turns it back in his direction. His eyes reflect both curiosity and a hint of concern.
"Thank me for what?" he inquires with genuine confusion.
I nip my lip, my eyes briefly deflecting before a tender squeeze reminds me to meet his gaze, no matter how much it makes me want to squirm. It's one of the few 'rules' he's established; we must always make eye contact in serious moments. Not only was it a sign of respect, it also allows either of us the opportunity to see the true emotions that our words just might not be able to fully convey.
"For everything," I hedge briefly before speaking seconds before the scold I know was about to drop from his lips. "You've done so much to help me settle in these past few weeks, stuff you didn't have to. You've got the Warblers looking out for me, you always help me with anything I don't understand or find someone who does, you even put aside this time for me every evening. I mean, you brought me dinner Blaine and you always make sure I'm taking care of myself. You don't have to do any of those things, but you do. I don't know where to start repaying you for it…but I thought this would help. Besides…"
"Besides?" he presses, although his tone is no longer the fully composed one he had had before my little speech.
I shrug again. He's obviously over whatever it is I did to make him annoyed with me, and I rather not bring it up today. But no, no lying was also another rule on our budding list.
"I wanted to say sorry," I finish sorry. "For whatever it was I did that made you ignore me this weekend."
My tone is woefully pitiful, a tactic that forever works on my dad whenever I step over my budget for the month. I inwardly cheer in victory when Blaine's eyes soften further.
"Oh Kurt," he whispers, and I smile as he closes the small breath between us to kiss my forehead. "You didn't do anything. I…I was just being ridiculous I suppose. Plus I…"
Now who's hedging, I think as I bop his nose after several long moments pass. He chuckles, accepting the silent censure.
"It's embarrassing," he admits to me. "You'll think I'm an idiot."
"What makes you think I already don't?" I say teasingly, hoping to reassure him.
It works; I giggle as he mock glares at me, before speaking. "It's just that….you told me that you were going out with Derrick this Friday…and I got jealous."
"What?!" I gasp incredulously, pulling back to look at him with wide eyes. "Jealous of Derrick?"
"It doesn't sound less ridiculous the more I say it," he grumbles.
"But why?" I question, pulling back to see his entire countenance.
"You're going out with him on a Friday!" He huffs as he says it, something I've never seen before and I am a bit…perturbed.
"Blaine…are you pouting?" I ask incredulously.
"I am not," he declares, before pressing on as if I hadn't said anything. "I was a little upset because you're going out with him and not me and…"
I can't help it. I start to laugh; first a light snicker that finally escalates into a deep, belly-aching laugh at the absurdity of all of this.
"You don't have to laugh that much," he grumbles, something that just sends me into a second round of laughter.
The thought that me, Kurt Hummel, was capable of making anyone, least of all the man of my dreams, jealous has never occurred to me.
Finally I regain control, wiping tears from my eyes even as I reach out to pat at his shoulder consolingly. He is definitely pouting, I note with amusement, and I am struck with the thought that the Blaine who apparently assaulted someone musically in a retail store really isn't as far away as I had thought.
"You think I'm going out with Derrick?"
"Aren't you?"
"Yes, we're just going out to the movies. Haven't you done that with anyone here?"
"Well…yeah," Blaine admits, "with Wes and David. But this is different."
"How?" I ask.
"Because it's you…and him…and it's your first time out…"
I realise now what he's getting at; I suppose it could look like it's a date but, "Derrick's not even gay."
"…"
I roll my eyes at Blaine's ridiculousness. He certainly isn't my dapper mentor in this moment…and I kind of like it. I never thought that I'd use the word 'dork' in relation to Blaine, but…he's being quite adorkable right now, and I can barely resist the urge to pinch his cheek because of it.
"Blaine, Derrick is as straight as they come. He just needs someone to talk to – in French –" I tack on belatedly, in order to respect his privacy, "and I need a friendly face in French."
"People are mistreating you?" he asks sharply, and there's my mentor Blaine back.
"I'll tell you about it later," I reply dismissively, "that's not important right now. What is though is the fact that you think I have a date on Friday" which is ridiculous, I add silently, because I spent a good portion of my weekend being teased about obviously having a crush on Blaine and yet not be courageous enough to just ask him out on a date or something (I've been told that we have to at least go on one date before I can even consider asking him to be my boyfriend, which admittedly is my ultimate goal).
"I think we've established by now that I'm an idiot." He sounds so petulant that my lips twitch again. Maybe it's the excess sugar causing this?
"You're my idiot though," I say bravely, and am heartened by the way he perks up and stares at me with both surprise and relief.
"I am?"
I nod, nipping my lip. Well, this isn't quite the way I expected this to begin, but did it really matter?
"I- I like you Blaine," I tell him, meeting his warm gaze directly.
"I like you too," he tells me, and there is no doubt that either of us mean it platonically.
"Yay," I whisper, for a lack of anything better to say, and this time it's he who laughs at me.
"This isn't what I had planned," he admits, "not the way I expected to tell you this…"
"I don't mind."
"Neither do I," he confirms.
We're silent for long moments, a comfortable silence as we just look at each other in a new way, analysing the subtle shift in our relationship.
"You're a jealous dork," I say eventually, mirth in my voice, before squealing as he launches at me, his fingers digging at my ribs.
Maybe, I think between chortles, that not everything has to change.